I never imagined my life would traverse these uncertain paths. No one dreams of it, but to live, I have learned, is to be surprised even when no wonder remains, to hope even when no hope is left.
I have made mistakes, as many as anyone, perhaps more. And although I have learned from them, it has not been enough to stop me from stumbling once again. That, I can admit without shame.
My dear Finia, my little Cadin: to you, I taught everything I knew and everything I could, without reservation, with the absolute devotion that my humble being, my always meager strength, and my insecurities were capable of sustaining. Only the gods can say if I did it well. I hope that, when I am no longer here, these words reach your hands, even if late, even if they are but a meager comfort. Know that I loved you as much as daughters born of my own blood; you were the light my eyes did not expect, the fire that rekindled in a heart I thought long extinguished. You were the reason my steps remained in this world longer than I deserved.
If I could ask anything of you, it would be this: do not keep a memory of the wounds I suffered in service to the crown, nor of those that brought me close to death more than once. Everyone carries a duty: mine was to pass on my knowledge and to love you as a father; my Queen's was to keep an entire kingdom standing. And that price, my little ones, none of us will ever truly understand: neither its weight nor the solitude that the crown brings upon the shoulders.
Sometimes, when the dawn finds me awake, I watch the river behind my master's house. The murmur of the water is the same as of old, but I seem to hear your childhood laughter in it, as if it happened only yesterday. The years we spent together learning from one another are indelible: the sweetest, the happiest, the truest.
This journal you now have before you holds not only memories, but all my reflections and wanderings regarding the magic I discovered here, on a moonless night, bitter and luminous all at once: the Ecoscrito (Echo-script). Perhaps its name sounds like a condemnation to you, and at times it was, but to me, it was always an untamable flame, beautiful and terrible, whose meaning I barely brushed against. That fateful night, its power opened my eyes to the magic of time and space, and it was also that night when I understood for the first time what it means to pay a price that cannot be seen, but is felt forever.
Because it was thanks to the Ecoscrito that I was able to heal my Lady, my friend, my Queen.
She has been my north since I was but a boy, and to her, I gave my life. And I mean that literally: that day, the Ecoscrito took a part of my existence, and a considerable fragment of my mana pool, to give it back to her. I realized the magnitude of the exchange too late. The joy of seeing her standing blinded me to its consequences. Since then, I was less of a mage, and the shadow of death clung to my spirit with the harshness of a mark that the calendar does not decipher: I did not know when, but I knew it was coming.
Even so, I do not regret it. Life demands sacrifices, and I offered mine without reservation. I ran toward the battlefield more times than I can count; I bled, I lost, I was broken… but even with all the setbacks, I would not change the path I traveled.
I might write this passage over and over again until my hands tremble too much to hold the pen. I have not given up yet; however, if my hour comes far from this desk, know this: there is much I never said. Although I tried to show you my love in every word and every silence, I know it was always less than you deserved… and that is my only regret.
Finia dreamed of building a new school of magic here: a home where mages recognize each other as brothers and sisters before rivals. And I know she will not rest until she achieves it, perhaps because she saw in us, in this small refuge, the shape of a family.
That is why I have engraved your names into the mana stone. If I do not return from this final journey, let it be your key to open that which I barely managed to imagine.
I miss you even when you are standing right in front of me; your weekly visits are so brief that every goodbye leaves my heart feeling vacant. And although my age is not marked upon my face, I feel it weighing inside, like roots pulling downward.
I have left a letter for my Queen; deliver it in my name. To Eleanor, the Queen Regent, I also left something. I do not know if she will accept it, but I hope you will be so kind as to do this for me.
Here in Glavendell, the children following in your footsteps are living laughter, tiny embers that sustain me without knowing it. I have left letters for each of them; if the war reaches me before I return, perhaps my words can guide their gray days a little.
I do not want to sound fatalistic, but death is always lurking but rarely gives warning. However, if I must depart, I prefer to do so before seeing you depart, my dear Finia. Not because I doubt your capability, but because no father would let his daughter step onto the battlefield if he could prevent it. And with the years, my fears have not diminished: they have taken root.
I say goodbye, though I do not wish to.
I was happy.
Know this well: I was happy with you.
With you and with my beloved Silvania, I cleared the shadows that occupied too much space in my soul. Thanks to you, I was able to give the best of myself even when my strength was waning.
I say goodbye without wanting to say goodbye, because I would wish for time to be eternal to remain by your side. But nothing is, not even here in Glavendell, where the days seem suspended in light but never stop the wheel of destiny.
Today I watched Silvania's fiery hair silhouetted against the light. She smiled slightly, that elusive smile I always treasured, but the children manage to make her show it more often than she admits.
I have prayed to the gods not to take this from me now, not now that I am so happy, but duty calls, and I never ran from it.
Never distance yourselves from one another.
And do not forget, please, do not forget, that I love you always.
Dyan Halvest